Neverland

Everything was panoramic. The pain, the happiness, the memories. A light would shine on my heart from every possible angle. And it felt like heaven. It felt like pure light to be in one piece. To look in the mirror and feel like enough. To have the external world reflect that energy towards me. Because only God can judge me. Only God can see the subconscious torture and know why the grand scheme of things left me tainted and haunted. And I didn’t regret a thing. I didn’t regret all of the times that I should have been smarter because everything is relative. How could I have known then what I know now? I am my own hero. I see myself and I see a vision of exotic ecstasy. When nobody else understood me, I validated myself. Through the crying in cafeteria bathrooms and writing poetry in high school because I had no friends. Through the seeking home somewhere. Seeking love somewhere. Seeking my destiny. And my feelings are like clockwork. Does that make them any more or less valid? Thoughts don’t accompany them the way they used to. But tears do. And I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. Or maybe why I’m not crying. What reason in the world do I have not to cry? But with pain comes pleasure. I know now that it’s probably a result of my poor self care habits. I think I must have my whole operating system unconsciously making random decisions for me. Which makes me human. Feeling emotions on a spectrum this way is becoming my new normal. But regulating my emotions and understanding the source of my ailments has allowed a metamorphosis process to begin to unfold. And after the dark, the light comes. And God, is it incredible. I see undying metaphors. Gilded butterflies. What was real? What was her imagination? Life imitated art in the way that you would die for. She felt very close to her heartbeat. She felt alive. She realized how rare that was. That alone was a tragedy. And a sparkle gleamed in eyes that did not deserve to be there. The world did not deaden her stare. She was a child at heart, genuinely. It was the happiest, scariest most contradictory life one could imagine. A walking oxymoron. She drew her sword toward everybody. On guard! But tickles made her melt. And when she melted everything felt so divine and the pain made sense. For a few minutes. When she melted she gave her whole heart. Her pure spirit. She felt it in the air, in the ground, in the trees. Conduits. Opulence became her. There were certain fears that scared her straight. Maybe that was what was saving her. Making her walk around just so. And if the shoe fits, wear it.